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// Chapter 49: The Princess 
// Story: The Life of Penumbra Heartbreak 
// by Unwhole Hole 
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The preparations began. Penumbra had accepted her role. She knew what was expected of her, and knew what had to be done.
So she stood still, staring forward as she was dressed. Not by crystal maids this time, though, and not for some performance or appearance or something likewise pointless. This was not a time for dresses or beauty, elegance or etiquette. This was not a time for a royal toy. This was the time of a princess: it was a time for destruction and pain. 
The golems swarmed around her, bolting plates and forms into place, dressing her in armor of dark iron and synthetic black crystal.
“This is my most advanced design,” said Emeth, overseeing the process. “It may be the most advanced thing I have ever created, if only because I do not know how to build another one of myself. This armor could withstand a nuclear blast. Of course, it would not actually block the heat, so try to avoid doing that.” 
“And I have carved into it runes of protection, of strength, and of stealth to avoid detection,” said Crozea. She stood before Penumbra, her mask removed but her golden armor visible beneath her thick, rune-inscribed robes. The expression on her face was pained, and Penumbra felt like crying, knowing that this may very well be the last time they see one another. 
“But should the battle turn sour, I fear even these may lack the power. Perhaps I am the only one who will make this fuss, but please promise to come back to us.” 
“I will do my best. I will make you proud.”
Crozea hugged her. “For that, you would be too late, for my pride in you is already great.”
Scarlet Mist approached from the side, along with the steward. The steward had donned a somewhat terrifying imperial uniform, a combination of dark iron and a coat not unlike that that Luciferian had once worn. The darkness of it made her pale eyes even more frightening. Scarlet Mist, though, wore only her normal gear, which was, in truth, simply a representation of her will. She was of the school of thought that a true mage required no armor. Magic alone would suffice. 
“This is what all that training comes down to,” she sighed. “You little idiot. I should have tried harder. Don’t screw this up.”
“I will do my best.” Penumbra lifted one of her armor-clad hooves, feeling the indescribably delicate machinery of the armor moving in response to her own. “It feels like I’m not wearing anything at all...”
“Don’t make it weird. Here.” Scarlet Mist produced a package and unwrapped it. Inside was a mask, but one unlike any that Penumbra had ever seen. 
“A thrall mask? Will that help?”
“It’s not a thrall mask. Not really. If even I can’t take your body, they wouldn’t work anyway. It will help with your senses. And keep your face safe. Consider it my contribution.”
“I think your training will be the far greater contribution.” Penumbra turned to the steward. “Which is where we are at a disadvantage. I read your materials. I know how to fight, but my skill with magic is hardly enough to take on a wizard of Celestia’s caliber.” 
“You don’t have to.” They began to walk. “You may not know the spells, but Eternity does. She is critical to our plan. Your mind will be merged to hers. She will upload the spells to you as you need them.”
“Will that be enough?”
“It will have to be. We will do what we can. Wait for my order. Nightmare Moon will keep her sister at the rear of the battle, and remain with her to keep her safe. You will only be deployed when their main force is otherwise entangled so they can’t call for support. Then it will be up to you.”
“And Celestia is hardly your main concern,” added Scarlet Mist. “She’s immensely powerful, but merciful and therefore weak. She isn’t built for fighting.”
“And the other one?”
“We don’t know,” said the steward. “That information is not available to us.”
Penumbra nodded. “I understand.”
The group stopped at the sound of wings. Several crows landed in front of them.
“Gxurab,” said the steward. Her pronunciation of his name was perfect. “Is the system ready?”
“I have...made the final preparations,” said the crows. “The accumulators will complete...in an hour. But...the king insisted...”
Something moved in the darkness. Something that Penumbra had not taken to be alive. 
Sombra emerged, and Penumbra felt a wave of pity in her heart. She could not bear to see her father in such a state. He was weak and frail, and though he walked with purpose it was only his will that kept him from stumbling. No other pony would have been standing in that state, let alone in a state where they could be saved by anything but necromancy. 
“I wish a word with the alicorn,” he said, quietly. 
“Of course, my king.” The steward motioned to the others, and they continued on their way. Only Crozea paused.
“Zecora?” said the king.
“How many times must I say,” she sighed. “Even on this darkest day. Sombra, while this makes my heart so greatly sore, know that this will be my final war. This will be my trial by fire, and then from the Dark Thirteen I shall retire. Two long I have labeled myself evil and hid. Now it is time I face what I did.”
Sombra gave a weak nod. “How long I have wished to hear that. I had thought you lost, as I am.  Survive the battle, and vanish as a hero. I will see to it that your legend is forgotten. This, I promise.”
Tears seemed to well in Crozea’s eyes. “Such a bittersweet end. This will be goodbye, my dearest friend.” 
And she departed, leaving Penumbra alone with her father.
Sombra turned to her. His eyes were beginning to cloud. 
“I have something for you,” he said, reaching beneath his cape. He produced a small object wrapped carefully in tattered fabric of the most curious shade of black. With his graying red magic shaking, he unwrapped it and placed the contents in his hoof. He held it out to Penumbra, and she felt a sharp intake of breath at the sheer beauty of the object.
It was an amulet of sorts, made roughly in the shape of a triangle and forged from dark steel. In the center sat a deep crimson ruby, and the top was forged into the shape of a glaring pony head with a long, thin horn. Flanking the head were a pair of angular wings. 
“This is called the Alicorn Amulet. It is the last remnant of or people, of our civilization. Of what we once were. In the ancient past, the dark priests would wear it in times of greatest need. I had always thought that it name referred to its effect, that it would make the wearer as powerful as a god...” He paused, and his voice became quiet. “But now I wonder. Perhaps those ancient priests foresaw this moment. That it was meant for you.” 
He lifted the amulet and Penumbra lowered her head. Her father put the chain around her neck, and Penumbra felt the magic of the device suddenly entering her mind.
“I feel...I feel really tingly...”
“Hopefully it serves you well. I myself was never able to wield its power.”
“But you are the king.”
“And I believe my body began to corrode long ago. I am simply only now showing it. As my end draws near, I cannot help but wonder if my choices were correct. Perhaps if you had been born in a better time, you would have grown up in peace among your dark unicorn brethren.”
“You’re not at your end. You will survive.”
“But what will I become when the process is finished?”
“My father.”
A smile crossed his face. Penumbra had never seen one like it. “Know this, Penumbra,” he said, turning his head toward the long, dark corridor. “You are not like us. Not just because you are an alicorn. You do not fight for power, or gain. When you are out there, when you face the goddesses, know what you fight for.”
“For the kingdom. For everypony I love. My friends, my family, my people. For you. I know that, father. I won’t let them hurt the ponies I love.”
“Then go. I am counting on you.”
Penumbra stood proud and saluted. Then she ran forward, bounding elegantly in her exotic armor to catch up with the others. 
Sombra watched her go. One of the ravens looked up at him. “Do you expect her to return?”
“No,” said Sombra, quietly. “But I suppose my usurper will finally be dealt with. Regardless, she does not need to win. Just to slow them down long enough for you do to your work.” His red eyes turned to the ravens. “So do not squander the gift her sacrifice has given me.” 

Near the great door, Thirteen was waiting. For Penumbra, it was nice to know that she would not be alone, even if it was a pony that she barely knew. Yet she was aware that when her safety was in danger, Thirteen had always come to her aid. She had been there on the day of Thirteen’s trial, and supposed it was only fitting that they work together for this final challenge. 
“Thirteen’s power is unique,” said the steward. “Should you fail, she can turn back time and give you the option to repeat it. But only she is aware of each jump, and can only do so much to change the situation. She will do what she can, but ultimately the act comes down to you. Do not think her ability guarantees your safety.”
“I am aware of this.”
“Good,” said Scarlet Mist. “I’d punch your teeth out if I had even the slightest inkling you were going to try to rely on somepony else’s power.”
Penumbra smiled, because she knew that it was true. 
Thirteen was not alone. Chrysalis was waiting at her side, standing tall as an adult unicorn clad in black, chitinous armor. 
“You look ridiculous,” she said. 
“So do you.”
“I need something from you.”
“What?”
Chrysalis approached and bent down, kissing Penumbra on the lips. Penumbra kissed back and felt as though something was being drained from her. Yet she lost nothing; what Chrysalis took was drawn from an endless pool. 
“Ugh,” said Chrysalis, separating and wiping her mouth on her armored sleeve. “You taste terrible.”
“But the pupation- -”
“If I pupate, so what? I’m betting there isn’t going to be a Crystal Empire when we’re done, even if we win. I borrowed some of your power to fight. I figure I should get ponies talking. Some of them out there are changelings. They always are. And when news gets back to my mother, I want her to be afraid.” She turned to the door. “When you rule the Crystal Empire and I rule the changelings, I’m sure we’ll have a great alliance.”
“I’m sure.” 
A pair of thralls moved to the door. They looked to Penumbra. For the first time, they were asking her for her orders. 
She put on the mask Scarlet Mist had given her, and saw the world as Scarlet Mist did. It was hideous and strange, but oh so beautiful. 
“It is time,” she said.
The thralls obeyed and opened the door. Cold light shone through and into the darkness of the Citadel, and flakes of snow drifted in from the icy breeze outside. Penumbra stepped out beside the steward and into the light. 
Beyond that icy light, gathered in the Citadel, Penumbra saw them. The imperial forces of justice had begun to assemble, preparing their defense and moving outward through the city. She saw her friends, and those she called family, working together toward a single common goal. Beyond them she saw the formations of the army: the thralls, their new masks gleaming in the light of the overcast sky, and golems of every type, moving out to the will of Emeth their creator. 
Among them she saw the officers clad in black, standing tall and at attention, their empty eyes becoming increasingly fiery as they screamed orders at their horde of thralls. In other places there were griffon mercenaries assembling in the skies, and below Penumbra saw forces of mages gathered from the city, including those clad in green robes and silver armor. Those were the ones that looked most nervous, save when they stood beside their lich master as she directed them in their preparations.
Then, in the distance, Penumbra saw an army she had never seen before. For a moment she grew concerned, not sure if the invasion had already begun. She did not recognize the hairy creatures marching in force, their heavy swords slung over their backs. When she saw the blue-armored pony who led them, though, Penumbra understood that they too were friends. 
Zither bowed, a sly smile on his face. “Princess, never before have I been so impressed with your visage. You are a true vision of power and destruction.”	
“Thank you, Zither.” Penumbra looked over her shoulder. “And who are these?”
“Tiny blue pony defeated communists!” said the largest, hairiest, and smelliest of the creatures, no doubt their leader. He advanced with such force that he nearly knocked Zither over, despite his power-armor. “Blue pony saved dissident yaks from the goulash! Now yaks no pretty crystal kingdom is in danger, yaks come to help! Mean sun-butt pony never help yaks, now yaks SMASH sun-butt pony!”
“SMASH! SMASH! SMASH!” chanted the yak warriors behind their prince, banging their various weapons and in some cases their heads against their shields.
“I have brought a force of mighty warriors,” said Zither, smiling. “You will not stand alone, princess, even when it seems like you have. Because the entirety of the kingdom stands behind you.” He drew his sacred Questlord blade and raised it above his head. “For Justice!”
“FOR JUSTICE!” repeated those who were able to, as well as the few free crystal ponies present, if only weakly.
“For Sombra, the Eternal King!”
“FOR SOMBRA!”
“And for the Princess!”
“FOR THE PRINCESS!”
The crowd saluted, and Penumbra felt tears roll from her eyes behind her mask. They believed in her, and she was so happy. They were the ones she fought for, and for them, she would prevail. Even if it meant she had to give everything, she was content to do so if it meant protecting them. This moment alone made it all worth it.